


personal furnace

by Chocchi



Category: Tales of Vesperia
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, Huddling For Warmth, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Non-Sexual Intimacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:54:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29126814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chocchi/pseuds/Chocchi
Summary: Winter renovations at the inn in Zaphias leave Yuri in need of a warm bunk for the night. Good thing he can always count on his good buddy Flynn.
Relationships: Yuri Lowell/Flynn Scifo
Comments: 28
Kudos: 66





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> im going to spoil the whole thing. right here right now. are u ready? the fic goes like this: (yuri voice) nooo don't stop cuddling me you're so sexy—i mean warm aha  
> thank you so much as always to my delightful beta readers, jude and tenma!

"It's freezing out there," Yuri complains, when he pushes in through Flynn's window. Flynn grimaces at the gust of cold wind through his room. It rustles through the papers on his desk threateningly.

"I'm quite aware, so if you could please get the rest of the way inside and close—thank you." He sighs with relief as Yuri slams the window closed behind himself. "I hope you realize that I was making a sacrifice for you by leaving that unlocked."

"You're indoors, you run hot and you have a fireplace, I don't feel sorry for you," Yuri says. He's shivering quite badly when Flynn looks up from his desk. Flynn frowns at him. When he rises from his chair, he scoops a blanket off the bed on his way past, and approaches to wrap it around Yuri's shoulders. Yuri makes a grateful noise. "Oh, fuck, thank you."

"You aren't in nearly enough layers," Flynn says. He fusses with the drape of the blanket and scowls down at Yuri's clothes. He's not so foolish as to be wearing his usual garb, but a full-fronted tunic and loose jacket are hardly a full winter kit. Yuri huddles into the blanket with a tight shrug.

"Wasn't so bad when I left Halure."

"Halure's always warmer," Flynn says, absentmindedly. He tucks the blanket all the way up against Yuri's throat. Yuri leans into it, eyelashes dipping against his cheeks when he sighs with relief, and Flynn has to swallow to stop himself from saying something stupid about how long they are or how soft the tender skin of Yuri's throat is against Flynn's knuckles. Gods, but he's always at his easiest to knock off kilter when they've been apart for a while. Sometimes he thinks if Yuri went away for long enough, Flynn would blurt out a confession just from seeing him again, because he'd forget how to cope with how beautiful Yuri can be. "Sometimes by a great deal."

"Yes, well, I don't think about that when I travel."

"Have you got better jackets in your bag?"

Yuri grimaces. "Yeah, but I dropped those off at the inn. Speaking of..."

...Ah. The inn in Zaphias is undergoing renovations to improve their insulation right now. It had happened that furnace blastia had been compensating for more structural deficiencies than anyone had realized, and now the whole city is scrambling to prepare for the worst of winter. The Knights are helping wherever unskilled but professionally directed labor is of use, and Flynn had made certain that some of the Flynn Brigade was stationed in the Lower Quarter, but... renovating an entire building with the proper amount of care can't be done instantaneously, no matter how many spare hands you provide.

"The renovations," Flynn says, sympathetically. "They didn't get enough rooms ready?"

"I got the impression they'd already done an absurd amount for how much time they had," Yuri says, which is probably very generous of him. "But no. Seems like it's a little cramped. Mariam's sorting by priority right now, so the elderly and those who really need it are first..."

"You don't have to run through the list for me," Flynn says. "You wouldn't take a finished room now if Mariam told you to. I know you. You're waiting for everyone else to get their space first."

"Yeah," Yuri says. He rolls his shoulders back and straightens a bit to stare Flynn down, defiantly. "Of course. Who's going to handle sleeping out in the cold better than me? I mean, really. I've slept in the Drifts before."

"Right," Flynn says. He knows that, objectively, but he hates the thought of Yuri having to sleep in the snow and freezing winds of Zoephir. He can't begin to fathom what task brought Brave Vesperia there that was worth sleeping that way. It must have paid quite handsomely, or been quite important. "Well, that's very noble of you and all that. Yes, you can sleep here instead."

"That's not—" Yuri splutters. His cheeks are red, but Flynn can't be certain that's not just the flush of the cold air yet to fade. "I wasn't going to ask for that! Just if I could take any spare blankets off your hands until the renovations are complete!"

"I suppose you can if you insist," Flynn says, doubtfully. He still doesn't really enjoy the mental image of Yuri shivering under a pile of quilts in a room so drafty as to be frosty when Flynn is perfectly content to share his space. Not that he would have any problem donating some spare blankets to Mariam in the morning, for others who didn't have a warm space yet, but for Yuri... And anyway, Yuri has never slept well when he has to share his space with strangers. He has enough trouble getting to sleep without further complications. "But really, you can just sleep here. There's no reason for you to be cold."

"Mariam said it would build character," Yuri says, presumably just to be a shit, because that's pretty much the only reason Yuri has uttered the words _Hanks said_ or _Mariam said_ since they were seven.

"I don't think anybody would accuse you of lacking character."

Yuri grins, sharp and proud. "Why thank you."

"I didn't hear any real objections, so I assume you're sleeping here," Flynn adds.

"I mean, yeah, if you're serious," Yuri says. He finally reaches up and takes the edges of the blanket into his own hands, adjusting it around himself. "Like you said. No reason to make myself suffer as some weird exercise in stupid pride."

"Good," Flynn says, satisfied. "I can lend you some clothes to sleep in tonight, so you don't have to go back for your bags."

"Alright," Yuri says, easily enough. He shuffles along behind Flynn when Flynn heads for the dresser and retrieves some soft pajamas. He takes the clothes, and Flynn excuses himself to the desk again to let Yuri change. They used to share clothes more when they were children, which is to say that they treated most of their things as interchangeable when they were children. Flynn tries to remember that so he doesn't feel so embarrassingly warm and fuzzy about Yuri wearing his clothes. Yuri promptly sabotages this by saying, "We are the same fucking size, how do you stretch the shoulders out so much?"

"My shoulders _are_ broader than yours," Flynn says. He stubbornly doesn't turn to look, because he knows the warm, fuzzy feeling will only get worse when he sees the shoulders of his shirt hanging loose on Yuri's leaner frame. Good grief. He has no right to feel any kind of way about Yuri wearing his clothes. "Stop whining. At least it's not the other way around, and you stretch all my shirts out when you borrow them. I'd never let you borrow anything otherwise."

"Sure you would. You'd just whine about it."

"My uniforms are actually meant to look crisp and fit properly, you know."

"Not your pajamas, smart-ass. Since when have I ever borrowed one of your uniforms?"

"When you were in the Knights with me as a rookie," Flynn says. He risks a glance back. Yuri has finished pulling the pajamas on, and wrapped the blanket back around himself as a cloak. "You stole my spare uniform a few times, remember?"

"Aside from that. You weren't that much bigger than me then, anyway. I didn't fuck them up that much." Yuri gives him a sour look. "And you certainly chewed me out for it enough at the time."

"Well, you knew better than to be stealing my clothes."

"Not my fault we shared a drawer. I didn't even realize I was taking yours half the time."

"I'm not going to argue with you about idiotic things we did when we were eighteen," Flynn says. Yuri could have just paid attention to which side of the damn drawer he was reaching into, but this debate is pointless. "You can go ahead and get in bed. I need to finish reading this."

"Don't stay up all night," Yuri teases, climbing into bed with the blanket still wrapped around him. Flynn wonders, with some amusement, whether he gave up the right to share that blanket with Yuri later by handing it to him now. But no. Once he's snuggled down under the covers, Yuri wriggles until he frees himself and can haphazardly yank the cloak-blanket out. It spreads mostly-evenly over the rest of the quilts.

That's one way to do it.

It doesn't take too much longer for Flynn to finish looking over his document, but it does take longer than it should. He keeps catching himself peeking over at Yuri, a glimpse of dark hair settled cozy and comfortable against Flynn's pillows, the quilt-softened shape of him under Flynn's covers. Flynn has to force himself to be responsible and complete his task rather than just following him to bed.

Yuri doesn't react when Flynn finally joins him. His eyelashes are a dark curve against his cheekbones, and his breathing is steady and even. Asleep already, it seems. Good. Flynn is glad he feels safe enough in Flynn's space to rest easily. He slides under the blankets as carefully as he can and settles down with his back to Yuri. For all that Yuri always says Flynn runs hot, he's putting off no shortage of body heat himself. It's nice and toasty under the covers as a result. Flynn has no trouble falling asleep.

* * *

He wakes up and smells citrus.

In the time it takes his newly-conscious brain to begin processing that that's confusing and unexpected, he realizes that his nose is buried in someone's hair. Silky, dark, soft hair, which smells faintly of citrus—

—Oh. Yuri must be buying new soaps in Dahngrest these days. He used to just use whatever plain soaps could be bought for cheap in the Lower Quarter. Flynn supposes that nicer, interesting-smelling soaps are the kind of luxury that a person might consider if they recently gained a consistent source of income. Somehow he still smells, in some unidentifiable way, like Yuri.

Because it is Yuri, of course. Yuri still huddled almost up to his own nose under the blankets. Yuri bundled tightly in Flynn's arms, his chest pressed to Flynn's chest as Flynn wraps around him like a clinging octopus. He's warm, very warm. Flynn can take comfort in the secure knowledge that he made sure Yuri was warm at night. Which isn't to say that this embrace was an intentional move to get him there. No, Flynn is just guilty of sleep cuddling, and now he has to try to undo that without waking his friend. There are several associated problems with this; the first is that Flynn doesn't actually want to stop cuddling Yuri, both because he's soppily in love and because Yuri is warm and Flynn can already tell the rest of the room is distinctly not. The second is the actual logistics of the maneuver. Flynn can't move him too much or he'll wake, but if he just moves himself without moving Yuri at all, Yuri might flop around enough to wake anyway. And even if he can avoid both of those, the frigid air that will sneak into the blanket roll when Flynn leaves it might be enough to wake Yuri on its own.

The third problem is that as soon as Flynn leaves the bed he's going to be haunted by every faint citrus perfume he encounters for the rest of the winter, remembering this moment of Yuri safe and vulnerable and content in his arms, but perhaps that's more of a new extension to Flynn's general _in love with Yuri problem_ than an issue with leaving the bed.

Alas. He must attempt the thing anyway. He uses gentle, soft touches to Yuri's person and little shifts in tiny increments of his own. When he's finally extricated himself, he watches Yuri for a second longer just to be sure his stealth operation was successful. Yuri huddles down into the warm spot Flynn left behind, blankets still tucked up around his shoulders and tousled hair concealing his face from view. His breathing is still slow and even, the mountain of blankets falling and rising with every sleeping breath. Flynn sighs with silent relief and heads for the bathroom.

When he emerges, fresh-faced and dressed in his under-armor uniform, he walks as softly as he can over to his armor stand. Metal is still metal, but he tries to be quiet as he begins to assemble it.

The blankets rustle. Yuri says, hoarsely, "Oh, what the fuck, are you really getting up already? I thought maybe you just had to pee or something."

Flynn looks sharply over his shoulder. Yuri has pushed himself up onto one elbow, and peers back, looking crabby and half-asleep. "I'm sorry. I was trying not to wake you—"

"You've gotta be joking. It's not even fucking light outside yet, Flynn. What's wrong with you? At least wait until dawn."

"It's the dead of winter," Flynn says. He snaps on the wrist-piece of his gauntlet that he was already holding and turns to face Yuri. "Dawn's still a while off. I have to get started on my day. I meant to let you keep sleeping, though."

"I know you were still awake when I got here, and you haven't slept any more than I have. Seriously? You do this every night?"

"I think it's later than you realize," Flynn says, miffed to be lectured on his sleep habits by a known insomniac. To be fair, Yuri has the excuse that his sleep problems are involuntary, but still. "I don't—hang on. What did you mean, you thought I just had to pee?"

"What does it sound like?" Yuri groans, a rough, exasperated growl of a sound, and pushes himself the rest of the way into a sitting position. Ah, no. Flynn had been hoping Yuri wouldn't follow his example, and he would rest some more. It _is_ difficult for Yuri to find peaceful sleep, after all, and he had been traveling yesterday, too. If he came through Halure, he couldn't have taken a shortcut by sea, either, nor been dropped off by Ba'ul. He has to be exhausted. "I thought you got out of bed to use the bathroom or something, not because you were getting up for real. I'd have stopped you before you got out of the blanket nest if I'd realized."

Flynn smacks down the tender, flowery ache that blooms in his heart at the conjured image of Yuri sleepily grabbing after him to keep him in a shared bed. "Since when were you awake?"

Yuri scrubs a hand through his hair with a grimace. "I don't know, whenever you started moving around? I'm a light sleeper."

"I know that," Flynn says, tightly. He tries to wrestle his voice back under control. "I—my apologies. For—"

 _For the cuddling._ He can't quite force the words out, though, in a moment of spiked mortification and shame. Yuri squints at him for a few seconds in confusion before his expression clears, realization dawning on his face.

"What, for the cuddling? You don't need to apologize for that. It's fine. Is that why you got up? Good grief, you're an idiot. I don't care. You could have stayed."

"It's not why I got up, the clock says—never mind. Even if you don't care, I care, since apparently you refuse to do so for yourself." Yuri gives him an outraged look for that one, which makes sense, but which is also a point Flynn is willing to start real shit over, so good luck, Yuri. "If I'm going to offer to share my bed, I should be able to control myself enough not to invade your space and your boundaries. So—"

"I said it's fine," Yuri snaps. Flynn prepares to argue more before Yuri, red in the face and avoiding eye contact, adds, "You're really warm."

Flynn stops and stares at him. "I beg your pardon?"

"You're warm," Yuri repeats, sounding frustrated. "I've told you, you run hot. Hotter than me, anyway. Human furnace. You always have been. It's—it was helping."

Flynn has to stare for a few more seconds, stupefied, before Yuri rallies himself enough to glare back. Yes, Yuri had been a comfortable heat source in his own arms, but... Flynn finally shakes his head, slowly. "Well, I... Alright. Fine, then. If you're sure."

Yuri rolls his eyes and shakes his own head. He climbs out of the bed and begins gathering his clothes from around the room. "We've slept in beds together before, Flynn. I knew what I was getting into. I wouldn't have agreed to share the bed if I had a problem with it."

Flynn feels heat rush to his face. Yes, they've shared beds a few hundred times if they've shared them once, but the vast majority of those times were as small children. That is to say, young enough that cuddling was seen as cute and friendly and permissible, not invasive and creepy. Flynn knew before last night that he'd never lost his unfortunate sleep habits, had mortified himself on several past occasions bed-sharing as young adults by waking up to discover he'd wrapped his body around Yuri's as they slept. He had hoped that Yuri had slept through the disentanglement process, but if what Yuri is saying is true, Flynn failed at that particular task miserably.

"So I... every time...?"

Yuri stops with his arms full of his own clothes to stare at Flynn incredulously. Flynn can only imagine he's comfortable being dramatic instead of dressing because he's standing directly beside the fireplace. "You did know you do that, right? Hey. You did know? I need you to confirm that now, actually."

"Of course I—"

"Because you've been doing that since you were six, every single time, and if nobody else has bothered to tell you—" Yuri shakes his head again. "No, hang on, you're the one who always wakes up first. Did you honestly think _I_ was the one who—?"

"No! I know it's—me, I know I'm the one who does that," Flynn bursts out, freshly embarrassed. "But I thought you slept through it when I woke up and tried to give you some space. You really woke up every time? Or did you just assume—"

Yuri looks amused now. "You think I sleep on the road where monsters might try to eat me and I don't have the survival instincts to wake up when someone is manhandling my body?"

Flynn doesn't know what to say to that.

"Yes, it's true. You aren't the stealth master you thought you were and I still knew you cuddle in your sleep. Sorry to be the one to break it to you."

His mortification must show on his face, because Yuri laughs at him. He turns away from Flynn at long last and starts stripping out of his borrowed pajamas to put on his clothes. "I guess I'll give you a little credit for the effort. It's kind of my bad for not making it obvious I'd woken up."

"Why didn't you?"

"Why do you think? I wanted to go back to sleep. And steal your warm spot, usually."

Flynn gives him an offended look. It's wasted on the back of Yuri's head. "You really have been using me as a human furnace for twenty years, then."

" _Using you_ is such strong language. Appreciating you, maybe."

"You don't even run that much colder than me!"

"C'mere for a second," Yuri says, muffled as he finishes pulling a thick, woolen second tunic on over the first. That's definitely Flynn's, and Flynn's not sure when he stole it but he won't call Yuri out on it. He'd rather Yuri was warm on his way back to his bags than raise a pointless fuss. Yuri holds a hand out to Flynn and wiggles his fingers. "I wanna show you something."

"Absolutely not," says Flynn, who has known Yuri long enough to know when he's being threatened with cold fingers on his neck. Yuri grins wolfishly.

"No? It's for science."

Flynn watches warily as Yuri strides across the room, towards where Flynn's sitting at his desk. "It's not for science, you big bully."

"Aww. Don't be such a baby—" Yuri comes within an arms-breadth and reaches for him. Flynn bats him away, and Yuri cackles and climbs half-over the armrest of the chair, fighting against Flynn's protective arm.

"Yuri, I swear, don't you dare—"

Which is, of course, the moment Flynn's maid knocks and opens the door, Yuri balanced perilously on one knee and wrestling with Flynn to regain the advantage on the assault.

"Good—morning. Sir," Cecelia says. "Uh. Mr. Yuri?"

"Good morning," Yuri says, cheerfully. He yanks a wrist out of Flynn's grip and tries to shove it against Flynn's neck again. Flynn smacks him away again with a low growl. "What can we do for you?"

"Um."

"Ignore him," Flynn says. He finally gets a hold on both of Yuri's wrists at once, and after a brief struggle of pure brute strength, manages to shove him back so that he stumbles the step off the armrest and trips backwards onto Flynn's bed, laughing the whole way. Flynn strongly suspects he was only launched so far because he let himself be. Good grief. He tries to fight down his answering smile as he turns back to the door. "I'm sorry about all that, Cecelia. Good morning. Have you brought breakfast?"

"Yes, sir," Cecelia says. She dutifully presents him with a tray of food, which he accepts gratefully and moves to his desk. Tentatively, she adds, "I can... fetch more, if...?"

"Ah, don't bother," Yuri says. He sits up on the bed, stretching. "I should get a move on, see who needs an extra pair of hands in the renovations today. I'm sure someone will feed me when I get there."

"Come back for lunch if they don't," Flynn says, absentmindedly. Yuri makes an affirmative noise and shuffles around behind Flynn, locating his boots. "Is there anything else you need me to address at this time, Cecelia?"

"Why..." Cecelia starts, then turns pink. "Not anything I need you to address, sir, but why is Mr. Yuri here at this hour?"

"To be a pain in the neck," Yuri says. Flynn rolls his eyes.

"Literally, if you had your way."

"Ha! Maybe."

"The inn in the Lower Quarter is among those having emergency renovations," Flynn tells Cecelia. She nods. "They need re-insulation and fireplaces for all of the rooms. They were able to renovate enough rooms with urgent speed to house most of the people who need shelter there, but things are still cramped, and there wasn't a spare room for Yuri. So I offered to let him sleep here until the inn is sorted out."

"That was kind, sir," Cecelia says, slowly, giving Flynn a confused, almost studying look.

A thought occurs to Flynn. He tilts his head back towards Yuri, who appears to be putting on boots somewhere in the vicinity of the bed. "Now that Cecelia is here with breakfast, will you believe I didn't wake us up absurdly early?"

"No," Yuri says, without hesitation. "I'll believe you trained the poor girl to deal with you waking up absurdly early. Sorry about him, Cece."

"I think it's the standard time for the Knights, Mr. Yuri," Cecelia says, doubtfully. "I've seen other people about, and the kitchens have started, of course. I don't need to cook breakfast myself if I bring it now."

Flynn cranes his neck enough to be gratified by the comically horrified look on Yuri's face. He snorts fondly and turns away again. "You had to get up at this time for your stint in the Knights, too. Or have you repressed that?"

"I must have. I don't remember Niren inflicting this kind of suffering on me."

"Maybe you're simply cranky because of the dawn being late."

"The dawn's even later in winter in Dahngrest, too, they just handle it like sensible people and sleep in until it's light out." Yuri's heels thump against the floor, one-two, presumably as he stretches out after he finishes assembling his attire. "It's funny, up there, it's almost like the whole city's hibernating—I'll tell you some other time. You've got your stupid early Commandant stuff, I've gotta go convince Mariam I'm still worth feeding. Thanks for letting me crash here."

"It was the least I could do," Flynn says, sincerely. "Keep warm out there. Are you still interested in taking those extra blankets to Mariam?"

"Hm. Yeah, actually."

"Cecelia, would you mind terribly—"

"No, sir. Here, Mr. Yuri."

At the very least, Yuri's arms loaded with blankets force him to leave out the door rather than making an escape out the window. He bids Flynn and Cecelia goodbye and heads out.

"Sir," Cecelia says, after she finishes making Flynn's bed. "Will you be requiring two sets of breakfast tomorrow?"

"No thank you," Flynn says, after a brief moment of consideration. "We've no timeline for when Yuri will be able to return to the inn, so let's not waste the food in case he doesn't come."

"Alright, sir," Cecelia says, but she looks dubious. She takes her leave.


	2. Chapter 2

Flynn closes the latches on his window during the day. The room is draftier when he doesn't, even if the window miraculously stays closed. He does have the vague, passing hope that it isn't too much of a problem if Yuri stops by again. Hopefully Yuri will have the sense to just come in through the door during the day when Flynn isn't sure to be around.

Instead, late into the evening, a knock comes at Flynn's window. Flynn scrambles to open it. Yuri scrambles just as frantically into the room once the latches are open.

"Hey, stranger," he says, through chattering teeth, as Flynn slams the window closed again behind him. "You mind if I—"

"Of course not," Flynn says. He catches the corner of a blanket on his bed and tosses it haphazardly over Yuri's head. Yuri grabs the edges with cold-clumsy fingers and huddles into it, peering out from under the shroud they've created. He looks like some kind of pilgrim to a forgotten temple when he's wrapped up like this. "...Assuming you were asking if you can spend the night."

"Yeah," Yuri says, and Flynn legitimately worries about him being too chilled to be snarky about it. He reaches forward to clap his hands over Yuri's shoulders and try to briskly rub some heat back into his biceps. "God, your hands are so fucking warm, how do you do it?"

"I've been inside for most of the day," Flynn says, bemusedly. Yuri is leaning much farther into his personal space than he usually would, presumably subconsciously seeking Flynn's body warmth. "Here, come sit by the fire while I grab you some pajamas. You'll warm up in a moment."

Yuri doesn't move to change immediately when Flynn retrieves the pajamas and returns to his side. His face is inscrutable in the shadow of the blanket. Flynn crouches next to him, gently touching his arm. Yuri turns and blinks at him in confusion.

"What?"

"Nothing, only... you're moving awfully slowly tonight. Are you alright?"

"'M just fucking freezing," Yuri mutters. He tugs the blanket more snugly around his own shoulders. "Not so bad I'm in danger, just. Tryin' to find the willpower to be colder for a little while so I can be warm after."

Flynn makes a sympathetic sound. "How long were you out and about in the cold?"

"All day," Yuri says. "Checking in around the Lower Quarter to figure out what needs doing right now, trying to sort out where my priorities should be for the next while... don't think I was inside much except for lunch and dinner. Took that with Mariam."

"She'd have your hide if you didn't."

"No kidding." Yuri sighs, deeply, hanging his head. "Right. Okay. Colder to get warmer. Here we go."

What follows is a fascinating display of stubborn innovation, wherein Yuri manages to disrobe and get his borrowed clothing on without ever removing the blanket from his body or having to stand. Clothes come tumbling out of the cloak or are pulled in by a darting hand. Flynn only knows the process is complete when Yuri stops moving again.

"That was almost impressive," he says. Yuri mock-bows, shifting on his butt to be closer to the fire. "You're welcome to get into bed whenever you want. I have to finish up some papers, but I'll try not to wake you when I join you."

"Good luck with that," Yuri says, although he doesn't look put out. "Light sleeper, remember? Anyway, if I don't have a human furnace handy yet, I'm gonna stay right here in the meantime. You do whatever you need to, workaholic."

"It could take a while," Flynn warns him, even as he meanders back to his desk. "And I know you need more sleep than I do."

"No, you're just better at faking it," Yuri snorts. Flynn doesn't deign to answer that. But he does find, to his internal embarrassment, that he's re-considering his documents as he sits back down. What actually needs to be a priority before he can allow himself the privilege of curling up under the covers next to Yuri? The budget revisions for Tolbyccia don't need to be ready for a few days, yet. His ledgers keeping track of the public resources and budgeting for Zaphias's emergency winter renovations are important, but the work is ongoing. It wouldn't make much difference to update it at another time. The proposed security arrangements for the winter festivals should be done by tomorrow so he can give them to the captains with enough time for consideration and feedback. Really, if he's going to work on anything tonight, it should be finalizing the draft for the security arrangements. He shuffles the other papers to the side a little guiltily, picks up his quill, and gets to work.

Most of the work is already done, honestly. He just needs to consolidate and rewrite his existing plans. It doesn't take him too long to make a formal copy that can be given to the printers in the morning to make enough copies for the captains. Even so, when he puts the quill down and glances over his shoulder, Yuri is curled horizontal on the rug in front of the hearth.

"I hope you're not really asleep over there," Flynn calls, softly, as he rises from the desk chair to tiptoe over to Yuri again. Yuri stirs and rolls onto his back to blink up at him sleepily. "You'll make yourself sore sleeping on the floor like that. I told you to move to the bed."

"Didn't mean to doze off," Yuri says, groggily. "Thought you were going to be working longer?"

"It's been an hour. I finished the things that need to be done tonight. Honestly, Yuri, you're lucky you fell sideways instead of forward. You could've set yourself on fire."

"Stop nagging me, I'm barely even awake enough to understand you," Yuri grumbles. He still lets Flynn half-lift him from the rug and shepherd him over to the bed. "Woulda woken in time to catch myself 'f I fell that close to the fire."

He probably would have, but it still makes Flynn nervous. He shakes his head as he lifts the covers and bundles Yuri underneath them. Yuri settles in with the blankets pulled all the way up to his nose. Flynn fights down a fond smile at the sight.

Yuri whines in protest when Flynn turns away from the bed again. "Where are you going? You said you were finished."

"I'm just changing into pajamas and cleaning up a bit," Flynn says. The bathroom door creaks as he turns the handle. "I'll be there shortly."

By the time he re-emerges, Yuri appears to be asleep again. The blankets covering him rise and fall with slow, easy breaths. Flynn lifts the covers as carefully as he can to slide in beside him, but he still catches the way Yuri's eyelashes crack open right before Flynn puts out the lantern on the bedside table.

"Sorry," Flynn whispers.

"Part of the deal of sharing a bed," Yuri murmurs. He sounds genuinely unbothered, so maybe it's fine. "Took you long enough."

"You're so impatient," Flynn says. He fidgets a little more to get himself truly comfortable, since he woke Yuri already anyway. "Is it really that much warmer when I'm in the bed with you?"

"Yeah. S'twice the body heat, isn't it?" Yuri yawns, audibly. "Always let Repede share my sleeping bag when we're in the Drifts overnight. Same deal. He's warm too."

"Well, that's because he's a dog, though."

"I don't know, Flynn, what do you want from me? I want to be warm, you make it warmer."

"Never mind. Let's just go to sleep."

"Finally," Yuri huffs. They both fall quiet. Soon enough, they—or at least Flynn—falls asleep.

* * *

He wakes up tangled around Yuri again, chest pressed to Yuri's back as he spoons him. Not too terribly surprising. Yuri rolls around in his sleep sometimes if he's resting soundly, and Flynn hasn't found a way around his own sleep-cuddling tendencies in the last day. Still, newly armed with the knowledge that Yuri knows about those and professes to be alright with it, Flynn considers his options.

Yuri talked yesterday about Flynn staying in bed. Would he genuinely want that? If he does, is Flynn allowed to remain cuddled up to him, or should he turn away to share the blankets but give Yuri some more space? Yuri only said he was alright with the unconscious cuddling while Flynn was asleep, after all. He didn't say anything about after they'd woken up. Would it be too strange? One step too far from the safety of platonic bed-sharing for warmth?

In the end, Flynn decides it's a moot point. He has to take the formal draft of the security proposal to the printers in time to have copies made for the early afternoon. He forces himself to draw back from the warm, limp, entirely too comforting weight of Yuri in his arms.

That weight becomes much less limp when Flynn lifts the covers and shifts himself to the edge of the mattress. As he swings his legs over the edge, he hears Yuri groan, "Seriously, Flynn?"

"You're entitled to my warm spot," Flynn says, primly, even though making himself stand and walk away from the bed when Yuri's knuckles brush sleep-weak and plaintive against his wrist feels like the hardest thing he's ever done. "You should be happy."

"I don't want your warm spot, I want you to stop getting up at ass o' clock."

Yuri has in fact rolled over to steal the warm spot when Flynn glances back over his shoulder from the dresser, though. He snorts and goes back to collecting his clothes for the day. "Well, I'm not about to quit the Knights, so I'm afraid you won't have much luck with that."

"Will you at least promise me the time is consistent and it's not an hour before dawn all times of year?"

"Yes," Flynn says. He pauses in the bathroom doorway. "Go back to sleep, Yuri. You don't have to get up with me."

And yet Yuri is dressed and sitting cross-legged in front of the fireplace again when Flynn comes out of the bathroom.

Flynn feels that, somehow, he's being punished. He's not sure what for. For wanting Yuri to rest more? That's absurd. Yuri loves sleeping when it doesn't bring him troubles. Surely he wouldn't be getting himself out of bed early just to spite Flynn.

"I told you you could go back to sleep."

"It's too weird to sleep in your bed when you're not in it," Yuri says.

"You spent half the summer taking boredom naps on my bed whenever you dropped by to visit while I was off doing other work."

"That was different."

"No, it wasn't."

Yuri shrugs, moodily. Flynn studies him.

"Is it really so cold in the bed without me that you can't sleep?"

"That's not the problem," Yuri says. "And no, it's not. You should know that. You sleep in this bed alone just fine."

Yes, but Flynn is apparently less sensitive to these things than Yuri is. He's not sure how to respond. By the time he has some tentative ideas, Yuri has heaved himself off the floor and is headed for the window.

"Might as well get a head start on my day. Bye, Flynn."

"Yuri—"

And he's gone.


	3. Chapter 3

When Yuri climbs in through the window again that night, Flynn looks up with some disbelief. He'd gotten the impression Yuri was upset with him that morning, or at least upset about being woken before he was ready. Flynn does feel guilty about that. He knows Yuri doesn't always fall back asleep after disruptions as easily as Flynn can. He should have been more empathetic to that this morning. "They still haven't fixed up enough of Mariam's rooms?"

"I know," Yuri says. He looks frustrated about it. "Sorry, man. I can find somewhere else to crash if—"

"No, you're always welcome here. I'm just surprised."

"Yeah. I don't know. I keep stopping by at the end of the afternoon to check with her and she said they're still getting separate rooms ready for the people who were forced to share before."

The winter already seems harsher than usual this year, so it's not completely implausible that more folks than usual are seeking shelter from the elements.

Yuri continues, "I guess I could at least try sleeping in my usual room for part of the night and see if it's tolerable."

"I just told you, you're always welcome here. You don't need to settle for tolerable, and you certainly don't need to risk worse. You can sleep here for as long as you're willing to put up with the inconveniences of sharing a bed with me."

"It's not that it's inconvenient," Yuri says. He's got the grim, irritated look he gets when he's about to say something sincere about his emotions. "It's just annoying to watch you work yourself to death."

Flynn pauses. "Oh. You're worried."

"I didn't use the word worried," Yuri snaps, cheeks flushing a darker pink that Flynn suspects has nothing to do with the cold he's just fled. It occurs to him belatedly that Yuri still hasn't moved away from the window to get himself a blanket or go closer to the fire. Maybe he's waiting for Flynn to indicate that he's welcome? But Flynn already said he was. He stands from the desk to grab a blanket from the bed and toss it at Yuri, who has the nerve to look surprised.

"Nobody says _working yourself to death_ unless they're worried."

"Well maybe you shouldn't be giving me things to be worried about!" Yuri draws the blanket around himself in a facsimile of a cloak, as usual, and glowers at him. "It's one thing to get up early if it's standard for the Knights, but then what the hell are you doing going to sleep at the same time I do? And working right up until then?"

"Yuri—"

"I can't stop you from self-destructing if this is how you get your rocks off, but what the fuck, Flynn. If you're gonna live like this, at least have the decency not to turn around and act like _I'm_ the one who needs to rest more."

"You do need to rest more," Flynn protests, weakly. He'd known Yuri was upset with him, but he wasn't prepared for it to involve actively combatting Flynn's attempts to look out for him. "At least I sleep consistently. You don't, always."

"Yeah, but at least I fucking try." Yuri tucks his hands close up against his own body. It's difficult to take the glaring seriously when he's swaddled in Flynn's quilt. "And I don't spend every second I'm not in bed working."

"I don't either," Flynn insists. "I usually—"

"Three nights in a row I've come here past eleven to find you still at your desk—"

"That's not—"

"So unless you're writing a fucking novel on the side—"

" _Yuri_ , stop interrupting me." They both stop to take a deep breath. Flynn soldiers on. "I don't usually work this late so consistently. It's just a hectic time of year. There are a lot of bureaucratic deadlines that we—the Knights—need to be prepared for before the new year, but I won't be able to spend all of that time working because I have political and social obligations for the winter festivals. I'm trying to burn through this now so I don't have to worry about it at the last minute."

The tense line of Yuri's shoulders relaxes a little. He studies Flynn warily. Flynn adds, more gently, "I swear, I take some time to relax most of the time. You think all those books on the shelves are just for decoration?"

"Nerd decoration," Yuri mutters, but the fight slumps out of him. He makes no objections when Flynn closes the gap between them to take the edge of the blanket in hand and lead Yuri over to the hearth again. Their hands brush when Yuri adjusts the drape of the quilt around himself as he settles down, and Flynn jerks away on instinct. He's absolutely freezing to the touch.

"No wonder you're grouchy. You're like ice."

"A pipe burst in Ted's apartments right at the end of the evening," Yuri says, tiredly. Flynn takes the hand he'd brushed against back into both of his own and tries to rub some warmth into Yuri's cold fingers. Yuri redirects his glare from Flynn to the flames, cheeks flushing red again. "I got freaking drenched earlier while I was trying to help him."

Aghast, Flynn says, "You got completely doused in freezing water in sub-zero weather and you just threatened me with trying to sleep in the cold at the inn?"

Yuri smacks at him half-heartedly with the hand Flynn isn't massaging. "How is doing stupid things that only hurt myself threatening you?"

Flynn isn't even going to dignify that with an answer. He catches the hand Yuri bopped him with and tries to massage warmth into that one, too.

"Is Ted going to be alright overnight?"

"Yeah, Hanks is putting him up for the night."

"That's good. Is someone—"

"Yeah, yeah, your people already have a plan for dealing with it." Yuri sighs. He gives Flynn an exhausted smile. "Don't go getting a big head about it, but you've got a pretty good thing going with the Flynn Brigade."

"You say that and then you refuse to make nice with Sodia."

"I am specifically talking about everyone except Sodia."

"Witcher?"

"...Yes. Fine. I'll include Apple-Head."

Well, at least that's something. Although Flynn is pretty sure the only grievance Yuri ever had with Witcher was in solidarity with Rita.

"Shall I draw a hot bath for you? Since you got soaked."

Yuri hesitates. That's a yes, then. If it's tempting enough to make him consider letting someone else take care of him, he's definitely cold enough to need it.

"I can do it," Yuri manages to say, without any sincere enthusiasm, when Flynn nods briskly and heads into the bathroom. "You've been working all day too—"

"I've been at the desk most of the day, aside from a training session," Flynn says. Yuri trails behind him and hovers in the doorway as Flynn opens the faucet to begin filling the tub. "And frankly, with all due respect, please do not try to do magic in any part of my quarters. Especially not fire magic. I have to live with whatever destruction you wreak."

"No faith," Yuri says, with a faint grin.

"Not for this." Flynn shakes his head, watching the water fill the tub. "Not before, and definitely not now that it's all mana."

"Rita says magic with mana is probably actually more intuitive for beginners to learn than magic with aer. She thinks it seems harder right now because everyone's trying to unlearn aer magic at the same time."

"If Rita is encouraging you to try fire magic, I'll have to have words with her."

Nonetheless, Yuri stays out of the way while Flynn uses careful application of fire magic to the porcelain basin to heat the water. He shuffles forward when Flynn steps back. Flynn takes the quilt back and leaves Yuri to disrobe while he goes to change into pajamas and fetch another set for Yuri.

He comes back in right as Yuri climbs into the bath, clothes in a pile on the floor. His hair pools on the surface of the water in inky swirls as he sinks deeper into the bath with a long, contented sigh. Flynn has to tear his eyes away before his gaze can follow the elegant curve of Yuri's neck below the water line. He turns to the bathroom counter.

"Better?"

"Yeah, lots. You're a hero."

"We're safe in my quarters at the end of the night. Nothing I need to save the energy for."

"Mm. Still." There's a gentle splashing sound behind Flynn, presumably as Yuri shifts. "Thanks."

"Maybe I should have been more careful," Flynn muses, more to himself than Yuri, as he reaches for his toothbrush. "In specialized climate training they always tell us you shouldn't put someone with hypothermia directly into a hot bath."

"I was not hypothermic," says Yuri, indignantly. "Just cold."

"Mm-hm. I don't know. You were more worked up than you usually get in your right mind."

"I get to be crabby when I can barely feel my hands without that meaning I'm on the verge of death," Yuri says, "And I was still right. If I find you staying up past midnight doing more paperwork after the new year, we're gonna have a real fight about it."

"Alright, alright."

"I'm serious."

"Hi, serious. I'm Flynn."

After a moment of furious silence, Yuri says, with deadly calm, "I am going to fucking drown you."

Flynn bursts into laughter. He had begun to put the toothbrush into his mouth, but now has to remove it so he doesn't choke. Yuri continues, "I'm going to have to explain to Cecelia why you're dead in the bathtub, fully clothed, and I'm the last person who saw you."

"Nobody else knows you're here," Flynn says, cheerfully. He glances at Yuri in the mirror. The mirror is safe. Yuri only exists from the shoulders up in the mirror. He glares sullenly back at Flynn. "You could get away with it."

"Yeah, nobody could solve that incredibly confusing riddle."

Flynn grins at him in the reflection and goes ahead with brushing his teeth. Yuri settles into the bath water up to his chin with another, surlier sigh.

"I take back everything nice I said."

"You can't take back being grouchy because you were worried about me. I'm going to remember that," Flynn says, around his toothbrush. He knows Yuri cares no matter how reluctant he is to put plain words to it, but it's still a treat whenever he slips up.

"I was grouchy because it's cold as hell," Yuri mutters. He rests the back of his head against the rim of the basin. He's quiet for a moment. Then: "You know in some places, people's whole concept of hell is a frozen wasteland?"

Flynn makes an interested sound. He had not known that.

"Estelle told us that," Yuri continues. "And I guess that's what they think in Dahngrest, because Karol was like, 'yeah, that's what hell is, what are you talking about?' And then we had to explain the concept of hell as a fire pit to him. He was so weirded out, it was hilarious."

"I can't believe you argued with a twelve year old about the concept of hell," Flynn says, except he can, actually. It's a very Yuri thing to do. He finishes brushing and spits into the sink.

"We weren't arguing," Yuri protests. "It was a cultural exchange."

"You can't just repeat Lady Estellise's euphemisms to me like I won't know that's what you're doing."

Yuri laughs. "Ah, fine. You got me there."

"I wouldn't mind hearing more about Dahngrest, though," Flynn says. He rinses his toothbrush under the faucet and puts it away, then turns around to lean back against the counter with his arms crossed. He's careful to keep his eyes on Yuri's face. "You started to say the other day that it's almost as though the citizens hibernate through the winter?"

Yuri lights up. He twists in the tub, water splashing dangerously, so he can face Flynn and rest his chin on his arms along the basin's edge. "Yeah. It's so wild. I mentioned the dawn's later, right? Well, the sunset's earlier, too."

"You're messing with me."

"No. It's dark a lot. And mostly people just sleep when it's dark, because it's colder there, too. So a lot of folks just stay inside and try to stay warm."

How... gloomy.

"You'll never believe me, but I'm one of the most productive people in the city right now."

"You always seem to find plenty to keep yourself busy in Dahngrest," Flynn allows. Guild life is good for Yuri, after all. "But so does everyone else. It must be strange, for it to be a ghost town after dark."

"Not quite a ghost town, there's still a little nightlife. But it is weird. Good for Brave Vesperia as a business venture, I guess. There's less people taking jobs right now, so we're getting plenty."

"If it's colder there, are you staying warm enough? They aren't having the same issues as Zaphias?"

"Yeah. I mean, the Empire already restricted the Guilds' access to blastia, right? So the buildings are built better for the winter, already, because most of them couldn't depend on furnace blastia. Lots of fireplaces and ventilation systems. I just sleep with plenty of blankets and bundle up when I go out."

"As long as you're doing alright," Flynn says, doubtfully. He doesn't like to think of Yuri in the cold and dark, but at least it sounds like he's staying active.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm getting by okay. It being dark all the time sucks more than the weather, honestly. Anyway, I'm going to be in Zaphias for a while."

Flynn perks up. Yuri doesn't always stay in town all that long. "Really?"

"Really," Yuri says. His grin goes a little less smirk and a little more soft and fond. "Gotta be here for the solstice festival and then new year, don't I? Or Ted'll kill me. And I thought I'd stick around for a bit after that, see if there's any chance we can establish a little guild business in Zaphias."

Flynn beams at him. "Pleased to hear it."

Yuri shakes his head, still smiling, as he lifts his arms from the edge of the tub and sinks back into the hot water. "You'll be sick of me by the time I go, don't worry."

Flynn really doesn't think he will be.

* * *

Yuri doesn't leave fast enough in the morning to miss Cecelia bringing breakfast for two. Flynn and Yuri both stare at her, befuddled. Yuri's got one boot on.

"There were two sets of pajamas set aside on the dresser last afternoon when I left for the day," she says, flustered. Flynn had re-folded Yuri's set along with his own so that they wouldn't create an absurd amount of laundry when he could just wear the same ones again if he showed up. "Sir. Um. I'm sorry. I can take one of these back to the kitchens, if you don't—"

"I mean, I'll eat it," Yuri says, reaching out to take the tray from her. "But you really didn't have to. The renovations seem to be going alright, it should be done soon. And Mariam's always willing to feed me when I get back over to the Lower Quarter. I'm not your problem, Cece."

Completely red in the face, Cecelia says, "It's my job to maintain the Commandant's quarters and if he's decided you're to be included in them then yes, you are my problem. Good day."

She curtsies aggressively and sees herself out before either Yuri or Flynn can say anything about it.

"Well then," Yuri says.

"I've no idea what that was about," Flynn says, baffled. "She asked if she should bring two breakfasts after the first morning and I told her not to."

"Hope I haven't offended her by declining her hospitality or something," Yuri says, which is a new layer of social etiquette Flynn doesn't want to think about so early in his morning. Shouldn't he be the one dictating the hospitality levels of his own quarters? Is Flynn also in hot water for telling her not to be hospitable? "Well, whatever. Yay for free breakfast."

"Indeed." It does sound nice to take a meal with Yuri, instead of just having him hop right back out the window. And it is. Flynn enjoys it immensely.


	4. Chapter 4

"Some of the nobles complained today that I was sullying the dignity and valor of the Knights by having them assist with emergency renovations."

Yuri pauses, then finishes re-latching Flynn's window. "You're joking."

"I'm not, unfortunately," Flynn says. This time he's in his armchair in front of the fireplace with a volume of poetry rather than at the desk. He had made a strong effort tonight to have the work he wanted to have done completed before Yuri might arrive. Yes, maybe he'd only eked it out by a margin of five minutes, but what Yuri didn't know hopefully wouldn't hurt him.

"That's wild. What did you tell them?"

"I said I would make the order to withdraw the Knights from all renovation projects in the Noble Quarter immediately if the residents were so displeased."

Yuri laughs. He grabs a blanket off Flynn's bed without waiting to be handed one this time, which pleases Flynn. "I'm sure they were thrilled by the prospect."

"Just delighted." Flynn sighs, putting a bookmark in to hold his place before setting the book aside. "Of course, they'd actually meant that assisting in the Citizen's and Lower Quarters was the indignity."

"Can't be seen helping commoners," Yuri says, mildly. He drops to sit on the rug by the base of Flynn's chair. His head is almost leaning against Flynn's knee; Flynn has to consciously resist the urge to start carding his fingers through Yuri's hair. It's right there. "Think the construction masters would strike if you abandoned them to work alone at this point, anyway. It's a pretty huge scale of work."

"Yes," Flynn says. He's quiet for a minute, staring into the fire. Yuri seems content enough to sit in silence. He leans back against the arm of Flynn's chair, fidgeting absentmindedly with the edge of the quilt he's wrapped in tonight. After a while, Flynn finds himself blurting out, quite without intending to, "Am I doing the right thing?"

Yuri twists to stare up at him, brow furrowed. "What?"

"Having the Knights work on public projects like this. We're supposed to be a fighting force. Is this right?"

"Yeah," Yuri drawls, slowly, like he's being stupid. "Of course it's right. What are you talking about?"

"I don't know," Flynn mumbles. He plants his elbows against his knees so he can drop his face into his hands. He scrubs at his face tiredly. "Maybe I'm just letting the nobles get into my head too much."

Yuri goes quiet. After a few beats, a gentle hand lands on Flynn's knee. He peeks out from between his fingers to see Yuri peering back up at him, looking more sympathetic.

"You're doing the right thing."

Flynn lets out a long, shuddering breath. Yuri continues, tone softer than he usually lowers it, "This isn't what the Knights have been, but it's what they should be. A force to protect people. Right? That was the goal."

"...Right."

"Just because it's bad weather and not monsters or injustice doesn't mean it's less important. That doesn't mean it's not your job. You get to put resources into this." Yuri drums his fingers against Flynn's thigh. His expression is considering. "I don't think you're really questioning whether it's the right thing, because you know that. It's why you did it. It just feels shitty because it's so much harder than it should be, huh?"

"Yes," Flynn whispers. Patrols, training, all of those things had been relatively easy to learn to direct as Commandant. He had been able to co-opt the existing framework with minimal adjustments. Even budgeting, Flynn could wrap his head around easily enough. But there's no existing bureaucratic groundwork for using the Knights as a work force in altruistic public projects. He has to draft and plan everything himself. Ioder had given the move his blessing, but in a bemused sort of way that had stung, as though he didn't quite understand what Flynn was doing. And now, to have people with influence in the court causing a stir over it... Flynn hoped he wasn't going to be drawn into a debate with the Council. It didn't feel like a concept he should have to defend.

And yet.

"You get to be stressed about it," Yuri says, at length. "It sucks ass. I couldn't do it, you know that."

"But you are doing it," Flynn points out. "You've been helping more around town more than I this week. You risked frostbite helping Ted last night."

"Making the Knights help still counts as helping, but I meant the political shit," Yuri says. "I don't have the patience to sit around letting people yell at me because doing the humane, reasonable thing interferes with their weird classist fantasies."

Flynn snorts, despite himself. He can only imagine what Yuri would have said if he'd been present in the audience chamber that afternoon. "I should let you loose on them sometime."

"Maybe another time," Yuri says, with the faint beginnings of a smirk. Flynn lowers his hands from his face. "Wouldn't want to cause you too much trouble while the work's not completed yet."

"You're here because there's still not enough rooms at the inn, then?"

"Yeah."

"You need another hot bath?"

"No. Think I'm either getting used to it or I was in improved spaces more often today. I could actually feel my fingers when I got here, mostly."

"Let's hope it's the latter," Flynn says, fighting back the impulse to take Yuri's hand on his knee into his own hand to make sure it's thoroughly warm.

"I dunno, it'd be useful for jobs in the Drifts if my cold tolerance was weirdly good."

"I don't know about that," Flynn says, doubtfully. "Would your actual bodily cold tolerance be better, or would you just be better at ignoring danger signs?"

"You're so boring and responsible," Yuri sighs, put-upon and overdramatic. "Who knows. It sure doesn't matter tonight. I'm going to bed, and you should too."

They go to bed.

* * *

Flynn does feel a lot better about the whole thing when he wakes up once again to Yuri in his arms the next morning. And if the orange slices Cecelia brought them with breakfast bring to mind having his face buried in Yuri's hair, well. That's an easier problem to bear.


	5. Chapter 5

The fifth time Yuri finds his way into Flynn's bed, Flynn begins to wonder. Not that having Yuri in his bed is any kind of imposition, that's never going to be something he complains about, but... it does pique Flynn's concern for the inn's renovations. Nobody in the Flynn Brigade has given him an alarming status report. As far as he knows, the re-insulation has been continuing apace. Mariam's rooms always fill out a little more in the winter than they do in the warmer months, but Flynn was never aware that they ran out of room for more visitors. Surely they should have finished enough rooms by now that Yuri could have his own, if not his usual room. Surely Mariam, who's been fond of Yuri since he was just a troublemaking little boy scraping his knee on her doorstep, would have made sure of that. Is there a complication with construction that Flynn hasn't been told about?

The next day, he shuffles some meetings and work sessions to scrape together the time in his schedule to go check on things. His lieutenants are surprised to see him, but they seem confident that everything has been going well. No major complaints about working with the construction crafts-masters, no major communications issues with the locals of the Lower Quarter. Apparently one of the new pumps froze, but a few rookies were able to get it working again. Flynn makes note of their names to consider for commendations. Then he moves along.

All of Flynn's old neighbors seem pleased enough that he's visiting. The children who dog his footsteps want to talk about swords and monsters he's fought recently and how cool his winter uniform looks. Nobody mentions an unresolved problem with the emergency renovations. Flynn can't quite shake the little herd when he darkens Mariam's door, so he supposes they'll just have an audience.

The front is empty behind the counter. It's warmer inside than it had been the last time he was in it, though, and there are a few customers milling about that seem comfortable enough. She couldn't have gotten the front room for food service fixed up if there were still too many rooms left so cold as to be uninhabitable, could she? Or is the priority of those things reversed? Maybe the communal space is higher priority than he imagines.

"Mariam," Flynn calls.

"One moment!" Sure enough, after a few beats and some clattering from behind the kitchen door, Mariam emerges. She breaks into a beam when she sees who's come calling. It highlights the wrinkles in her face that tell the tale of a woman who's spent long years of her life smiling. "Flynn! Oh, goodness gracious, I wasn't expecting you. Come in, darling, come in from the cold. Can I get you something hot to eat?"

"No, thank you," Flynn says. "I'm afraid I've already eaten lunch."

"None of that, I insist. You're still a growing young man—" Some of the children titter. Flynn valiantly stops himself from scowling. Mariam's never quite stopped treating him as though he's an unruly teenager, even now that he holds the station of Commandant. "—And what with you coming here in the cold wearing only that light uniform—"

"This uniform is made to withstand the Drifts of Zoephir," Flynn says, exasperatedly. He adds, more carefully, "I just came to check in on things. You would let me know if there was an issue with the renovations, correct?"

"Oh, of course, dear," Mariam rushes to assure him. She pats Flynn on the shoulder. "No, no, don't you fret about that. Of course we would tell your Knights, now that things would actually be done about it."

Because that's what Flynn fears, of course. He's doing his best to change the way the Knights operate, the way their work power and strength is used for the sake of the people, and which people get the help they need... But he can only change so much at a time, and he knows his old community is used to relying on themselves. They have too much experience with being left to fend for themselves for anything else. He worries that something could go wrong and he'd never know, in his little ivory tower at the highest rank, and they would grow to resent him as they carried on with the same quiet strength they always had.

Yuri would never let it get that dire before he came pounding on Flynn's door, Flynn is certain, but the fear remains.

"Alright," Flynn says, relieved. "I'm glad to hear that."

"Why do you ask? Are there issues in other parts of town?"

"No." He's not heard of them, at least, and the nobles are quite comfortable raising a fuss about such things. He hopes Cecelia would let him know if there was a problem in the Citizen's Quarter that the Knights didn't bring to his attention, but as far as he knows those renovations are progressing regularly. Certainly Flynn didn't provide any shortage of workers out of the Knights' ranks to help. "I wanted to be sure, because Yuri..."

Understanding dawns on Mariam's face. Her eyebrows shoot up. "Oh! Oh, yes, well. Everything is going just fine, but we haven't quite gotten _all_ the rooms fixed up yet. Still a spot of sharing between some of our guests. You know how Yuri likes his space."

"I suppose I do." Flynn gets the distinct impression that Mariam is not being truthful with him. He would call her out on it, but he doesn't want to pick a fight in front of the children and her customers.

"I'd be fussing over the poor thing sleeping out in the cold if I thought you'd ever let such a terrible thing happen to him. He did mention you'd given him a warm bunk. Thank you for sending him back with those blankets, dear."

Unbidden, a hot flush rises to Flynn's face."There was no sense hoarding them at the castle when there were those that needed them more here. Just let me know if you'll still be needing them when the renovations are done, so that they may be replaced at the castle."

"Of course, of course."

Unfortunately, that's all Flynn has time for. He makes his excuses to Mariam so he can hurry back to the castle to be hopefully not _too_ late to meet with some of the captains about how winter training has been going. He should be thinking about that meeting. Instead, he wonders.

Mariam hadn't been subtle in her lying, but it wasn't callous dishonesty. No, she'd been grinning slyly like she was letting Flynn in on some joke. What was the joke, exactly?

...Is Yuri sleeping in his bed the joke?

Flynn ponders this. On the one hand, he's not sure he appreciates Mariam's meddling. It is, without a doubt; she's known Flynn and Yuri for too much of their lives for it not to be. Flynn knows he's obvious about his feelings for Yuri, and most of their old neighbors probably know. Mortifying, but for the most part they leave him be. But on the other hand—Yuri doesn't appreciate meddling either, but he hasn't said anything about it. It can't be for lack of noticing. Yuri is plenty attentive when he wants to be, and the safety and habitability of his community has always been a priority. He must be paying attention. So if he knows something is amiss, but he's still turning up at Flynn's window every night...

Maybe he wants to be in Flynn's bed, rather than a room at the inn?

Flynn almost wishes he hadn't had that thought. The problem is that he wants it to be true so ardently that he might be too biased to refute it. He needs to get it together and think this through rationally. So what if Yuri isn't calling Mariam out on her poor bluff, even though he hates other people meddling in his business—and he doesn't mind that Flynn cuddles him in his sleep—and he lets Flynn hold his hands to warm them—and lets Flynn see him in the bath, and comes to sit at the base of his chair and waits for Flynn to join him in the bed and—

What was Flynn's point, again?


	6. Chapter 6

When Yuri clambers through the window for the sixth time in as many days, Flynn glances up from his book, then does a double-take as something suddenly occurs to him. Sure enough, Yuri is still only wearing the thick, woolen tunic he stole from Flynn as his top layer. Flynn still doesn't mind lending it to him, but—

"I could have sworn you said you had better jackets with you when you first arrived."

"I do," Yuri says. He grabs one of Flynn's blankets and dives over to what's rapidly becoming his spot at the hearth. It's incidentally also at the base of Flynn chair. Has Flynn been subconsciously inching his armchair closer to this spot? He feels like it was at a different angle relative to the fireplace at the beginning of this week. "But the really good winter stuff sucks ass to climb in."

"Really?"

"Yeah. At least the coat I got in Dahngrest does. I complained about the range of motion when we were getting it and Raven said it was probably better that I couldn't try to climb sheer ice, anyway."

Well, Raven wasn't wrong.

"Hang on," Flynn says, exasperatedly, as Yuri's point sets in. "You aren't wearing your coat because it would make it too hard to climb to my window? Yuri."

"What?"

"There is _frost_ in your _hair_."

"The coat wouldn't cover that."

"I really don't know what to do with you sometimes," Flynn sighs. He puts his bookmark in and leans over to tuck Yuri's blanket-cloak in around his neck. Yuri leans into the touch with a grateful hum. "Please just wear your coat and come in through the front. I can talk to the night shift guards in advance if you're worried about it."

"I don't want the Knights to know my plans for the evening," Yuri mutters.

"I _am_ the Knights."

"Oh, gods, spare me." Yuri shifts his weight so that when he leans back, his nape bumps against Flynn's knees, and he can tip his head back into Flynn's lap to give him a withering glare. "It's not that weird to not want strangers to know my business just because you're a big shot now."

"Maybe it isn't," Flynn says, more to avoid having this recurring argument distract from his main point than because he believes it, "But that's not worth freezing to death over."

"I won't freeze to death," Yuri says. "I'm not running around like this the whole day or anything. I wear the coat for most of it. I just take it off at the end of the night to come here. That's only fifteen minutes or so."

"At night, when it's coldest."

"I'm fine, Flynn."

"You did that after Ted's pipe burst, too," Flynn realizes, aloud. He sighs again. He lets his head dip forward, bending at the waist until his forehead gently bumps against Yuri's. "If you won't do it for yourself, will you do it for me? Please?"

"If you're really that worried about it, fine," Yuri says. He reaches up and pats at Flynn's head. "I'll wear the damn coat."

"...You're still going to try to climb in it, aren't you."

"Not to offend any kind of weird pride you have in the security of the castle, but this isn't exactly the kind of high-caliber infiltration where it could cause me injury instead of mild discomfort."

Flynn decides it's far too late in the evening to be weighing his options between tightening castle security for very legitimate safety reasons and leaving them lax enough that Yuri can easily visit the way he's most comfortable with. He knows he'll be more sensible about it in the morning. He sits back upright, shaking his head.

"I'd say something absurd like, 'as long as you're sure it's safe,' but I'm certain it's not. Please just try to be careful."

"I know what I'm doing," Yuri says, indignantly, and Flynn feels confident about that, at least. Even if Yuri won't confess to the exact level of danger aloud, he's aware of whatever it is he's getting himself into. "Also, just to go back to an earlier point, not wearing that coat is the only reason I didn't get frostbite from helping Ted. It shielded me from the worst of the water, but then it was completely soaked for the rest of the night. I'd have hurt myself more insisting on wearing it than I did just booking it back to warmth."

"Where in heaven's name did you dry it?" It would have frozen stiff if he'd just left it in the cold, and then he wouldn't have had it the next day, either.

"Mariam's front room. She's got it warm enough for customers. Felt bad having her hang my sopping coat out front where the guests could see it, though."

Flynn strongly suspects that there's another warm room somewhere in Mariam's inn that Yuri's coat was relocated to for the night. Quite possibly that room is Yuri's.

"It probably wasn't the worst thing that's been in Mariam's front room," Flynn says, instead of any of that.

"Eh, that's probably true." Yuri's head is still in Flynn's lap, so Flynn can see it when he grins. "You should see the stuff Espie keeps dragging in."

"Strays?" Esperanza is a friendly young lady. She seems like the sort that would be hopefully bringing mangy cats and dogs back to Mariam. But perhaps Flynn only thinks so because she reminds him of Yuri, when he was a peppy kid who ran around collecting animals in need and bringing them back to Mariam. Esperanza is much older than Yuri had been when he did that, but... Flynn doesn't mean to be rude, but Esperanza at sixteen seems to be at approximately a ten-year-old Yuri's level of naivety. Perhaps it's merely the learning curve of a recent entry to the Lower Quarter.

"Oh, yeah. Strays. Cool trash. Whatever muck she's gotten on herself messing around in the canals."

"You shouldn't encourage her to mess about in the canals, they're disgusting."

"We don't encourage it. Mariam gives her exactly the same dressing-down she used to give us, and Espie listens exactly as much as we used to."

"And what do you do?"

"Stay out of Mariam's way."

"Smart man," Flynn says. Yuri probably isn't around often enough to be egging Esperanza on too much. Hopefully she'll grow out of it on her own in good time. Then again, did Yuri ever grow out of it, really? "Well, as long as I'm pestering you about staying warm enough, can I persuade you to take another hot bath?"

"Are you saying I stink?" Yuri says, with good humor. "Mariam's communal bathrooms are working, you know. I've been taking showers."

"I'm not saying you stink," Flynn says. He brushes some hair out of Yuri's face. Yuri's eyelids flutter closed. "Just thought you might like to relax and be warm for a while, since you have to spend all day running around in the cold."

"Warm enough now," Yuri says. Flynn will accept that, if somewhat dubiously. He is camped in front of the fire with an extra blanket and whatever body warmth Flynn's legs give off. "I'd rather go to bed, honestly, since you're going to get us up stupid early again."

"I keep telling you you can sleep in."

"Even if I wanted to, I can't anymore. I'm afraid Cece will stab me if she comes up with breakfast and I don't partake."

"I really wonder what's gotten into her," Flynn murmurs, bemusedly. She hasn't asked how long Yuri will be staying in Flynn's quarters or when to stop bringing extra food. She just keeps stubbornly bringing two servings of breakfast. She had looked rather cross again the last time she brought it in and Yuri had been half a step away from leaving too soon to eat.

"Who knows," Yuri says. "Are we going to sleep or what?"

So they do.

* * *

Flynn does foist an extra pair of gloves and a scarf off on Yuri after breakfast the next morning, though. Who knows what other nonsense Yuri is getting up to without his coat. Flynn might not be able to keep him warm all day, but he can at least try to convince Yuri to keep himself warm. Yuri wraps the scarf around his own neck with a look that warns Flynn he's accepting it as an indulgence to some idiocy of Flynn's. The gloves he shoves into his pocket.

But then he does climb out the window next, so Flynn supposes he'd rather Yuri had the grip he wants and expects for his own idiocy than pander to Flynn's fretfulness.


	7. Chapter 7

On the morning after the seventh night Yuri spends in his bed, Yuri says, “Hey, Flynn.”

“Hmm?”

“Do you think Mariam might be fucking with me?”

Oh. Flynn pauses and looks up from his documents. Yuri is looking down at his boots while he talks, actually bothering to do up the buttons along his shin for the cold weather.

“I mean, it seems kind of weird, doesn’t it? They got like a third of the inn’s rooms done in the first two days. It’s been a week now. Even if they haven’t gotten to my usual room yet, another empty room has to be open by now, right? She’s not _that_ crowded for shelter.”

“...I assumed that was what was happening by a few nights ago, to be honest.”

Yuri’s head snaps up, expression indignant. “Excuse me?”

Flynn shrugs, helplessly. He probably could have claimed ignorance, but he doesn’t want to lie to Yuri. Besides, Yuri would know if he did. He supposes this was inevitable. It was unfair for him to just say nothing and hope they were on the same page, so he has no one to blame but himself for being stuck in this conversation now.

“It’s like you said. It seems too odd to be true. The inn shouldn’t be so crowded that after a week of work, they haven’t been able to get enough rooms fixed up that there’s one for you. And if there was a real construction issue, someone would have made a report to me about the delay. Someone isn’t telling the whole story. It makes more sense for it to be Mariam than my entire brigade.”

“You—“ Yuri’s jaw works, furiously. Flynn's stomach sinks with dread to watch it. He knows that Yuri isn’t naive enough to take unreasonable statements at face value, that when he accepts strange explanations it’s an act of trust. He takes betrayals of that trust as an insult to his judgement. Even silly ones. Flynn doesn’t know whether Yuri is more angry with him or Mariam, but he figures he’s due at least part of it. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Flynn hesitates. If Yuri wasn't ignoring the obvious for the same reasons Flynn was, he has no idea how Yuri will take his explanation. How he'll feel about Flynn's justifications.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Yuri repeats, more frustrated. “You’re the one being inconvenienced, Flynn!”

“It’s not inconvenient,” Flynn says, quietly.

“You’re kidding me. What’s convenient about me breaking into your room at night to leech off your heat?” Yuri runs a hand through his own hair, looking distressed. Yuri only likes to impose on his own terms, after all. He wants to be a nuisance, not a burden. No matter that Flynn has tried time and time again to explain he doesn't see helping Yuri as a burden. “You don’t have to—if you think we’re not hanging out enough, tell me you want to eat dinner together or some shit. Don’t let me intrude into your bed and kick you in my sleep over something this stupid, it’s not—“

“I want you to kick me in your sleep,” Flynn says. Might as well rip off the bandage. Yuri’s expression morphs from anger to surprise to disbelief in the matter of a second. Flynn soldiers on, hoping his voice doesn’t waver too much. “I want you to show up at the window at stupid times if it means you come in and get yourself cozy and comfortable. I want to keep you warm. I want you at arm’s reach in the night. I want you in my bed, letting me hold you, whatever the excuse is. That’s why I didn’t say anything.”

Yuri’s face is unreadable. He regards Flynn silently.

“I’m sorry,” Flynn adds, softly. His heart drums nervously against his ribs. “I suppose I was hoping—well, I know you’re smart enough to know something was amiss. I convinced myself that if you weren’t doing anything about your lodgings, it meant you wanted all that too. So I’m sorry I was too selfish to mention it.”

Yuri stares him down for another long, long moment where Flynn tries not to visibly squirm. Finally he says, sharp and brisk, "You're an idiot."

He strides over to the hooks on the wall and retrieves his coat, shrugging it on. Flynn passes him his scarf wordlessly. His throat is tight; he's not sure he could talk even if he knew what to say. He watches Yuri loop the scarf around his neck in movements clearly made jerky with controlled anger, then pull his gloves—Flynn's loaned gloves, rather—out of his coat pocket to yank them on. When he yanks open the latch on Flynn's window to open it, Flynn almost welcomes the blast of cold air that sweeps into the room. It's nearly soothing to be halfway to numbed in an instant right now.

"Later," Yuri says, without looking at him, and climbs out the window to disappear into the morning light.

Well. Flynn would say he fucked that up pretty thoroughly.


	8. Chapter 8

He tries to get on with the rest of his day. It's difficult. Flynn doesn't like to think of himself as a coward, but he'd never quite had the courage to spend a lot of time daydreaming about what would happen if Yuri rejected his affections. Now his failure of imagination means he lacks a mental contingency plan to fall back on. He goes through the motions, mostly. Goes to his meetings with Ioder and the Knights' captains and hopefully doesn't make a complete fool of himself. He says all the right things, he thinks. Remembers most of what he wanted to address—his notes help. Goes to train with some of the rookie Knights and tries not to pummel them too hard. Goes back to his room to flip through documents. That one is the worst. He can't focus at all, not sitting in his chair in the room where he managed to drive off the most important person in his life.

Eventually he gives up, disgusted with himself, much earlier in the evening than he usually would. He feels unreasonably exhausted. Surely he shouldn't be. He's slept more soundly over the last week with Yuri than he has in months. There's no reason for him to be so bone-tired. But he's clearly not going to be able to force himself to get anything done, so he might as well call it a night.

He's just finished changing into pajamas and is stoking the fire one last time for the night when the knock at the window comes.

Flynn stares at the closed curtains for a long moment in amazement. The poker is clutched, forgotten, in his hand. When the knock comes again, accompanied now by a crabby-sounding, "Flynn!" he tosses it to the side thoughtlessly and half-sprints to shove the curtains aside and open the window. Yuri glowers at him even as he climbs inside. No wonder he's so irritated. He's come without his coat again.

"What kept you? Holy shit, were you actually in bed at a reasonable hour?"

“I hadn't yet—come in, good grief,” Flynn says, somewhat stupidly with Yuri already tumbling into the room and halfway into Flynn’s arms. Flynn grabs a blanket off the bed to wrap around his shoulders haphazardly with one hand and slams the window back closed with the other. “Is Mariam really still insisting that your room isn’t fixed?”

“No,” Yuri says, curtly. He shivers violently even as Flynn adjusts the blanket around him. “It’s fixed. Been fixed for a while, apparently.”

Flynn freezes, surprised. Yuri snorts when Flynn blinks at him in bewilderment.

“You know I still have shit I’m supposed to be getting done for Brave Vesperia, right?”

“I—well, yes, but—“

“And I’d really rather have my own damn space to do that, rather than working off a corner of the Commandant’s desk? There’s shit for the Guilds I really shouldn’t be waving around in front of the Knights, y’know.”

“I—“ Flynn’s heart is in his throat. He couldn’t dare to presume—

Yuri presumes for him. He elbows the rest of his way into Flynn’s space, blanket and all, until Flynn is forced to either take Yuri into his arms or fall a stumbling step back.

(He takes Yuri into his arms, of course. Yuri’s still so cold, it practically radiates off him at close quarters. Flynn can’t not share his body heat, it would just be cruel. How could he not warm Yuri up when the option is there?)

“If you want me in your bed,” Yuri says, voice low, “All you had to do was ask. All you ever had to do was ask. You don’t need stupid excuses. Alright?”

“Alright,” Flynn echoes, feeling a bit faint. His hands had settled for a safe, respectful stabilizing grip on Yuri’s elbows, but now he moves them tentatively to Yuri’s hips. Yuri leans into the contact. It feels like Flynn’s brain kickstarts back into action, finally processing the last thirty seconds, and a giddy smile spreads across his face. “Yuri...”

“You’re still in trouble,” Yuri says, stubbornly. The splotchy pink of cold on his cheeks slowly fills out into a deeper, more consistent red blush as Flynn watches. “For letting Mariam fuck around with me.”

“I didn’t—“ Flynn starts to protest, then thinks better of it, setting his weight back on his heels with a sigh. He’s got his hands on Yuri’s hips, an intimacy he wouldn’t have dared try just this morning, and Yuri more or less volunteering to spend more time in his bed. If the consequences of a petty lie are his price for that, so be it. He’ll pay gladly. “Alright. I’m sorry.”

“Should be,” Yuri says. He bullies his way even closer so that he can shove his face into the crook of Flynn’s shoulder, cold nose pressed up against Flynn’s neck. Flynn barely flinches; it’s no worse than all the times Yuri has shoved cold fingers on him as a joke over the years, and this has vastly more appealing side benefits to make up for the slight discomfort. He wraps his arms more solidly behind Yuri’s back. “Haven’t gotten any damn guild work done in a week because I knew if I took the request missives out to look at in the inn’s dining area, the kids’d vanish them as soon as I turned my back.”

“You were no better at their age,” Flynn points out. He strokes once, cautiously, over Yuri’s shoulder blades. When that’s allowed without objection, he starts rubbing gentle circles into Yuri’s back over the blanket. Maybe he can massage some warmth back into him this way. “Worse, probably.”

“Doesn’t mean I want to have to tell Karol I didn’t do the job ‘cause some kid fed the directions to their dog."

“Or your dog.”

“Don’t get me started on Repede. Mariam said he's been sleeping in the fixed room since the third day.”

Flynn bursts into startled laughter, unable to stop himself even when Yuri smacks him lightly on the bicep with annoyance. “Has he really?”

“Yeah, the little shit.”

“Smart dog,” Flynn says, fondly. Yuri rolls his eyes. Flynn can’t see it, but he knows.

“Smarter than either of his masters, apparently.”

“If you come in through the doors, he could join his masters.”

“First of all,” Yuri says, “Still not interested in talking to any other Knights. Second, I don’t know what page you managed to get lost on if you want Repede in here with us while we’re trying to make out.”

Flynn stills. Yuri waits him out for a few beats before he says, anxious and trying to cover it with flippancy, “I mean, unless I’m the one on the wrong page—“

“No,” Flynn blurts out. He hugs Yuri close to him, squeezing probably too tightly in his rush to show conviction. Yuri grumbles out a sound of protest and Flynn loosens his grip. “No, you’re on the right page. Of course. You’re right, I wasn’t thinking. As long as he’s got someplace else to keep warm for the night.”

“Repede always finds his way,” Yuri says, sounding much more at ease now.

“Come on. I’ve kept you waiting long enough, let’s get you under the covers. Do you want a change of pajamas?”

“No,” Yuri says. He shakes off Flynn’s embrace to step back, handing him the blanket before he starts to strip. Is Flynn allowed to openly enjoy this now? Yuri hardly gave him a chance to look away, although he turns pink again when he realizes Flynn is blatantly staring at the skin revealed when he strips out of each layer. “Should be warm enough with just blankets and you, I think. I'd rather sleep in my underwear.”

“You just want to put off doing laundry.”

“I’m not even the one doing the hypothetical pajama laundry. This is your laundry, Mr. I-have-maids-now.”

Flynn watches raptly as Yuri shimmies his pants down to his knees, then yanks his legs out of his boots and pants at the same time, one by one. He grabs the boots and tosses them to the side with the pants still tucked in.

“That seemed like more hassle than just taking them off individually.”

“The way you’re looking at me right now, I’m afraid you’ll eat me alive if I do this in a way normal enough to be even remotely sexy,” Yuri says, prompting heat to rush to Flynn’s own cheeks. “And I’m sorry to disappoint, but I would actually like to be able to feel my limbs when we cross that bridge, so that's not happening tonight.”

“My intentions are pure,” Flynn says, firmly. Yuri has the gall to laugh incredulously as he takes off his socks and throws them the way of his boots. “Oh, stop it, I’ve never gotten to look just for the sake of looking before!”

“I told you, you could’ve looked any time if you just asked.”

“Well,” Flynn says. He could say he didn’t know that at the time, but... he’s not stupid. He had a vague awareness that the way he and Yuri behave with each other was already not, strictly speaking, standard platonic friendship. He doesn’t know how to explain the bizarre, Yuri-induced blind spot in his feelings that has him stunned to find out Yuri reciprocates. That’s love, he supposes. “You weren’t asking either.”

Yuri turns even redder. "How was I supposed to know you were interested?"

"Basic social signals?" Flynn suggests. Now down to his underwear, Yuri begins to shiver again. Flynn tucks the blanket back around his shoulders and gathers him close, letting him huddle against Flynn's warm body. "I don't think I've been terribly subtle."

"You weren't that obvious either," Yuri mutters, ducking down to hide his face against Flynn's shoulder again. Hmm. Flynn disagrees, but he can hardly judge. Apparently there's a corresponding Flynn-induced blind spot in Yuri's feelings. How endearing. Yuri's usually so self-assured. "Are we getting into bed or what? I'm still freezing, here."

"Bed," Flynn agrees. He shuffles toward the bed, pulling Yuri along with him. Yuri follows, almost stepping on Flynn's toes in his insistence to stay close to the warmth of Flynn's body. Flynn regretfully has to let go of Yuri to pull back the covers. Yuri crawls in first, still wrapped snugly in the extra blanket. That's normal enough. What's new, what makes Flynn's heart flutter, is the way he wriggles his arms free and reaches for Flynn. Flynn hurries to slide under the blankets after him, pulling the wool and downy quilts over their shoulders as he half-throws himself into Yuri's arms. Yuri huffs out a quiet laugh. His arms fold around Flynn's back as Flynn shamelessly snuggles in close. His cheeks are still flushed a gentle pink.

"Don't concuss me, moron."

"I was about to ask to kiss you before you were so mean," Flynn says. Yuri's eyes go wide. "Since I believe there was some talk of making out."

"There was also talk of me being able to feel my limbs," Yuri says, but it's softly-spoken and his face drifts closer to Flynn's until their noses bump, foreheads pressed together. "And my fingers are still pretty stiff right now."

"We don't have to do anything but kiss," Flynn says, just as softly. "And not even that if you don't want. But I'd like to, if you're up for it."

In answer, Yuri nudges forward the last bare inch to press his mouth gently to Flynn's. His lips are a little chapped—Flynn will have to see about getting him some beeswax balm, he thinks, distractedly—and they apply but faint, tentative pressure, but it's still the best kiss Flynn has ever participated in, simply by virtue of having come from Yuri.

When Yuri pulls back and tilts his face, adjusting the angle, to lean in again—that, anew, is the best kiss Flynn has ever had.

And so is the next one.

And the next one.

And—

* * *

Yuri is snoring gently against his throat when Flynn wakes. Technically speaking, this could have easily happened on any other morning this week. But it feels more special, to know Yuri fell asleep like this. That he meant to be in exactly this position and he didn't want to move all night, that he's happy and comfortable like this.

Flynn lays there for a series of long moments, recalling the previous night, preening in the satisfaction of having Yuri voluntarily wound into his embrace, of Yuri returning that embrace. The satisfaction of Yuri, annoyed as all hell with him for allowing meddling in their personal affairs, still coming back to tell Flynn he wanted to be in Flynn's bed as much as Flynn wanted him in Flynn's bed. The satisfaction of _all you ever had to do was ask_. Flynn wonders, somewhat wistfully, what else he's allowed to ask for. Dare he dream of things even better than Yuri cozy and affectionate in his arms, even better than soft kisses before they fall asleep tangled up in each other?

But Flynn is a man of duty, and he's awake now because of routine, so alas. _Time to get up_ , he thinks, and shifts in preparation to draw back. Then he pauses.

No meetings this morning. No training sessions. He needs to review the budgets for their operations in Tolbyccia before he sees the captains this afternoon, but... that won't take too long. Most of the work he was trying to force himself to focus on yesterday can wait. It isn't urgent.

And Yuri is so warm and comfortable in his arms....

Flynn sets his mind and snuggles back in, kissing the top of Yuri's head. Yuri twitches minutely in his arms and snuffles quietly.

"Mmph?"

"Nothing," Flynn whispers. He strokes along Yuri's bare back. "Go back to sleep."

"Mm," Yuri mumbles. He rouses a little, to Flynn's great disappointment. "You gettin' up?"

"No," Flynn says, still softly. "I'm staying right here."

Yuri hums, pleased. "Good. Too early."

"Rest some more," Flynn says. He kisses the crown of Yuri's head again. Yuri makes another pleased sound. "I'll be here when you wake up."

With Yuri cozy all along his front, Flynn finds himself dozing again too. He'd been too caught off-guard last night to think ahead to the next morning, hadn't bothered to think through the consequences of an impromptu lie-in, so he's snapped back into awareness by the brisk knock at the door that signals Cecelia's entrance. Flynn half-rises in a panic only to be arrested by Yuri's limp weight. Yuri grumbles sleepily, trying to tug him back down to the mattress. Flynn finds himself meeting Cecelia's wide eyes as she freezes in the doorway. The breakfast tray is clutched in her hands so tightly that the wood creaks.

Flynn knows exactly what this tableau must look like—knows that even before he tried to sit up and dislodged some of the quilts, Yuri's shoulders would have been visibly bare above the line of the blankets—and with Yuri burrowed so tightly into Flynn's arms, too—

"Breakfast," Cecelia squeaks. "Sir. Mr. Yuri. I'll—I'll leave it on the desk."

"Thank you," Flynn chokes out, completely mortified. He's not embarrassed of Yuri, but—to have one of the staff actually catch him _in bed_ —

Cecelia curtsies and turns so fast she almost trips over her own feet. The door slams closed behind her.

Yuri snorts.

"Yuri," Flynn hisses, almost hysterically. "If you're awake you could have let go!"

"Punishment," Yuri says, without opening his eyes. He finally succeeds in dragging Flynn back down, and rolls halfway on top of him to snuggle close again. "You're in trouble, remember?"

"I thought that just meant you were cross with me!"

"Think again," Yuri murmurs. It's decidedly more difficult to be angry with him when his mouth touches Flynn's throat on every syllable. Flynn manages nonetheless. "You let me be made a fool of, now you get to be the fool. Prob'ly enough though."

"I—you—don't drag poor Cecelia into that!"

"Cece already thought we were boning," Yuri says, sounding bored. He rolls the rest of the way on top of Flynn's body, the force of his weight pushing a soft grunt out of Flynn. He can take it, but Yuri's still a fully grown man. "That's why she was so offended that you said not to bring breakfast for me, I guess. She thought you were trying to hide our relationship because it was a trust thing. At least that's what Espie said. She overheard me yelling at Mariam and told me Cece asked her for advice about how to show you she was trustworthy."

"Cecelia already thought we were in a relationship?" Flynn demands, baffled. "Why? Because I let you share my room instead of freeze?"

"I'm told it would be less homoerotic if you just put me up in the barracks or some shit."

"I couldn't put you up in the barracks, you hate the barracks. You'd have slept in the cold rather than sleep in the barracks."

"Also you wanted me in your bed," Yuri says, and at least he's not so irritated with Flynn that he doesn't sound satisfied with that. Flynn's heart warms pleasantly at the tone of it. The knowledge that Yuri likes being wanted by him is still fresh enough to give Flynn a frisson of delight.

"Yes, I wanted you in my bed, but that part is definitely homoerotic. I could've made you sleep on the floor for all Cecelia knew."

"I have no control over her rationale. All I knew was that it would be really easy to get you back, so I did. Honestly, you set most of it up yourself."

"...Does this mean Cecelia was also trying to meddle by bringing you breakfast?"

"I don't think so," Yuri says. His expression shifts from sleepy mischief to thoughtfulness. "It sounded like Espie didn't bother to correct her. Cece would have still thought she was showing that she could be chill about me being here."

"Thank the gods," Flynn mutters. He has no idea what he would do with himself if his personal maid had taken it upon herself to interfere with his love life. "Well. You're a terrible brat, but I suppose I forgive you."

"It was no less than you earned," Yuri says, righteously. He might be wrong; Flynn suspects Yuri could come up with much worse than deeply mortifying Flynn as a one-off. If he truly feels that this is enough to punish Flynn for a week of being laughed at behind his back, Flynn should count himself lucky. Yuri yawns and rests his cheek on Flynn's shoulder. "Can we go back to sleep now?"

"You'll be able to fall back asleep alright after all that excitement?"

"Think I'll manage. I'll try, anyway. You?"

"We'll see." Flynn has a fairly regular internal rhythm, after all. He was already a bit surprised to have dozed back off earlier. He's not sure how his body will respond to an attempt to sleep in now that he's had a shot of adrenaline into his veins. He cards his fingers between dark locks of hair. "I can at least stay in the bed a while longer. Keep you nice and warm."

Yuri hums with pleasure again. It vibrates against Flynn's shoulder, making him shiver. "Now you really are my personal furnace."

"And gladly." Flynn kisses him on the forehead. Then he does it again, for good measure. Then again, and again, until Yuri reaches up to slap a hand over his mouth with a grumble of complaint.

"We're trying to sleep."

"Aw," Flynn mumbles, muffled. Yuri tilts his face enough for Flynn to get a glimpse of his expression, which is clearly fighting down sleepy fondness to try to project exasperation. Flynn's heart throbs at the sight.

"More kissing later, sleep now."

"You could sleep through it?"

"I really won't." Yuri removes his hand from Flynn's mouth to press his palm flat to Flynn's chest instead, right over his left breast. "And quit getting excited, your heartbeat is way too fast. We're resting."

"I can't help that."

"Yes, you can. Calm down."

Flynn murmurs some kind of nonsense excuse-apology combination and nudges Yuri to rest his head down again, so that Flynn can tuck his face against his hair. Soft and silky and comforting. Yuri sighs contentedly and nestles down against him.

As ever, the chill of a cold winter's morning threatens from beyond the nest of blankets. Yuri was already hard enough to leave behind as Flynn's own heat source before. Now, with him intentionally cuddled up to Flynn, Flynn loses all motivation for getting up to do other things. Despite his prior concerns, Yuri's right; as soon as Flynn decides to accept his role as pillow instead of showering Yuri with tender affections, he finds himself calming and settling. Yuri's gentle breaths against his throat go slow and even again. Flynn's own breathing steadies in response.

Breakfast will keep, surely. Flynn will just rest his eyes for a moment.


End file.
